


will you come travel with me

by sabinelagrande



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Vox Machina Arc, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 04:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: This town is just like so many others, but Tary finds what he's looking for anyway.





	will you come travel with me

This town is largely unremarkable; it looks so much like other Wildemount towns that it hardly registers to Tary. It feels like he could all but navigate it with his eyes closed- stables, tavern, blacksmith, houses, the general mix of buildings that is all but standardized in this part of the continent. This uncharitable appraisal of it could come from the fact that they've been riding for four days with very little rest, but Tary would really like to go to the rooms that are inevitably above the tavern and have a rest.

"We're just staying for a few hours," he tells his charges, his brigade, and to their credit, they only sound a little disgusted. "Doty, go with Tamir and Lucien and replenish our provisions."

"Tary," Doty says obediently, and the three of them set off.

"The rest of you can stop in the tavern if you like," Tary says. "I have some business to attend to. It shouldn't take me more than half an hour."

He leaves his group, a little pleased that he doesn't have to look at them for a few minutes, and goes off in search of someone who can sell him leather goods. One of his bags- thankfully not a bag of holding- has popped its seams, and he's better off in general replacing it with a leather satchel.

As he expected, there is a tanner in town, and as is the custom in towns this small, they have their finished products displayed in the window, waiting on buyers. Tary opens the door and walks in, hit immediately by the scent of leather and oil.

The proprietor is standing with his back to the counter and doesn't immediately turn around. Taking him in, Tary has the thought he has often when he sees men of a certain build and hair color; he thinks for a moment that the man will turn around and be Lawrence. In the instant of the thought he feels warm, but like every time, the next instant is a sharp pain, though it's dulling over time.

"Excuse me, good sir," Tary says, with a cheer that hopefully masks his feeling of disappointment at the reality of the situation.

The tanner drops the awl he's holding, the tool clattering loudly on the stone floor. Tary frowns, wondering what's wrong with his greeting.

But then the man turns around, and he is Lawrence. 

Tary reaches out, grabbing onto the nearest thing for support; it happens to be the edge of the counter, thankfully, not something he could damage. That's good, because his grip goes white-knuckled in an instant, like all he has to connect himself to the here and now is his hand and this piece of wood. He has to remind himself to breathe, and he still doesn't do it properly.

"But you're dead," Tary says, and he sounds pitiful in his own ears.

"Is that what they told you?" Lawrence says, and his voice is exactly as it is in Tary's memories.

"My father had you killed," Tary says.

"Your father tried," Lawrence says; even though Tary and his father are on much better terms now, the confirmation doesn't surprise him. "His men chose to be merciful."

All at once Tary comes back to himself. He vaults over the counter and launches himself at Larry, because why is he wasting time talking when Larry is there, real and vital and just as Tary pictured? He's halfway across the shop when he realizes anything could have happened, that Larry could have an enormous husband and three kids in the back, but Larry doesn't stop him, just catches Tary when he gets there, taking Tary's face into his hands and pulling him into a kiss.

Tary has so much to say, so many things that he never got to in time, but he can't pull his lips away from Larry's for long enough to talk. That will just have to be enough right now; he certainly feels like he could put everything he needs to into this, express himself with nothing but the desperation of his movements, the way he clings to Larry.

"Mister Darrington," a voice says from the doorway, and Tary freezes, caught out. He finally manages to part from Larry, and one of his young adventurers is standing the doorway. She's looking between the two of them like she's confused but intrigued, and Tary just knows this is going to be gossip within the next few minutes.

"Ah, Tabitha," Tary says, and he realizes he hasn't actually let go of Larry, but he doesn't see a good reason to now that they've been seen.

"Sir, the rest of the brigade is wondering when we're going to head out," Tabitha says, keenly studying Larry with a well-trained eye that he'd appreciate in any other situation.

"Tell them to go fu-" Tary stops, remembering that he's a leader now, a role model. "Tell everyone they've earned a reprieve. Have a relaxing night and we'll regroup tomorrow afternoon at the tavern."

"Yes, sir," she says, scurrying off, probably to get into trouble. 

Larry seems to have collected himself, and he steps back the barest inch, giving Tary space that Tary doesn't know if he wants. "I see you've made some friends," he says, and coming from someone else it would be a dig, catty, but Larry just sounds fond.

"Not exactly," Tary says. "More like staff. My real friends are mostly in Whitestone these days."

"You've traveled far," Larry says.

Tary takes his hand. "I've traveled to exactly where I need to be."

"Just give me a moment," Larry says, pulling back, and he looks overcome. He quickly unties his apron and tosses it onto the counter. He walks around Tary, shutting and bolting the front door to the shop before he returns. "Come with me."

Larry leads him out the back of the tannery, locking the back door as he goes, and down the alleyway, until he reaches another door. This one he unlocks, and he ushers Tary inside. Beyond the door is a very modest living space, comfortable but only just, like the owner has merely set up for a while instead of really taking over the room.

"You live here now?" Tary asks, and it occurs to him that, while he always remembers Larry in relatively opulent settings, his father probably paid him next to nothing. This is probably better than he had in Deastok, and Tary wonders if it's fair to take him away from it, not that he's said anything of the kind.

Yet.

"I don't really want to talk about where I live," Larry says, and for the first time since they reunited, he smiles. Tary almost collapses under the weight of it, how it can be so new and so perfectly like what he remembers; he never could resist that smile, especially when he was younger and people smiled at him so very seldomly. 

"For now, I don't think we need to talk at all," Tary says, stepping into his space, and Larry bends down and kisses him again, slower now, like he's savoring it instead of taking it greedily. Tary puts his arms around his neck and just lets go, lets himself be swept away like he does when he fantasizes about seeing Larry again, only suddenly, improbably real.

The two of them stumble further into Larry's rooms, Tary letting himself be led somewhat unsteadily, hopefully towards a bed. By this point he's been with other men, men who were dashing and smelled nice and weren't enough, never enough to live up to Larry. Percy was perhaps the only one who Tary thought could be a replacement, but now with Larry in front of him he wonders why he thought that at all. Percy is kind and Percy is handsome and Percy is whip-smart, but he could never be Larry. No one could ever be Larry, and Tary has spent more than one sleepless night staring at his ceiling and wondering if he could have more than making do without him.

They do reach a bed, and Larry stops at the edge of it, looking at Tary with a expectant yet slightly frustrated expression. Tary looks down at himself and realizes he's still wearing full armor, which is exactly what he doesn't want to be wearing in this situation.

"One moment," Tary says, starting in on the straps and buckles holding his armor together.

"I'll help," Larry says, sounding amused, and between the two of them, they do manage to get the armor off, though it's not as neatly piled as Tary would prefer. He forgets all about it when Larry pulls him into bed, climbing on top of him and caging Tary in with his arms. The world is blocked out except for Larry, and Tary can't think of anything he wants more.

For ages, all they do is kiss, just touching each other gently, relearning. Tary's the one who pushes it further, his hands sliding under Larry's shirt to push it off, and soon all of their clothing is gone, nothing separating the two of them anymore. When they make love- and it is, more so than Tary has ever experienced before, a depth of feeling that he's never known even when he and Larry were together all those years ago- Tary clutches Larry to him, holding onto him like he'll fall away again otherwise. Larry only holds him tighter, moves faster, kisses Tary over and over again.

Hours later, Larry is lying beside him, one hand on Tary's stomach as he props his head up with his other arm. They've been talking idly, filling each other in on the missing time, though they've both avoided talking about what happened, the day that they were ripped away from each other, a day Tary will never let happen again.

"It's not so bad," Larry is saying, with a shrug. "It's honest pay for honest work."

"It doesn't suit you," Tary says.

"What does suit me, then?" Larry asks, sly in the way he always was when he was trying to coax an answer from his pupil.

And Tary knows this is it, this is the moment. It's been coming since the instant they saw each other, and Tary knows he has to go there, has to make the leap, even when he's terrified that the answer will not be what he wants.

"Come with me," he says earnestly, and Larry turns his face away. Tary puts a hand under his chin, turning it back. "Please come with me. You were meant for more than working in a tannery. I'm finally living a life I'm happy with, but there's a hole in it in the shape of you."

"You always did have a way of putting things," Larry says.

"I had a good teacher," Tary says.

"I don't know if I can just-" Larry starts, but then he stops, looking puzzled for a moment. "What am I saying? Of course I will."

"You won't regret it for a moment," Tary says, even though they were almost attacked by a purple worm last week, even though he spends most nights with rocks digging into his back, even though he's very nearly poor, because he knows that he himself never will.

So there's a tannery in Wildemount looking for new management, if you're interested.


End file.
